In Every Life
by rcms24
Summary: "Sometimes when I hold her it feels like we've lived together, many different lives as different people in other times and places, but somehow our souls always end up back in each other's arms." - Jose Chavez
1. Chapter 1

Braavos – 300 A.C.

Arya was remarkably calm as she pondered at the sting of the cold wind that touched her cheek. She had always thought that when someone was at death's door, all of their senses would fade, yet for her, everything seemed exceptionally sharp, especially the pain.

She tried to concentrate on other sensations, like the feel of the wet stones underneath her or the sound of the waves, but it was the approaching footsteps that managed to distract her. Jaqen seated himself silently beside her and she lifted her head slightly to meet his gaze. The emotion he always concealed seemed to seep through his normally impenetrable mask, if only a little. Perhaps Arya was imagining the crease between his eyebrows or the clench of his jaw. "I'm going to die," she told him, although she knew he was already aware. A normal person might have tried to comfort Arya or reassure her otherwise, but that was not Jaqen; he merely nodded in confirmation as he studied her expression. Arya preferred his lack of reaction, it's not as if she wanted a particularly dramatic death. No, this was much better, she decided. She looked away from her faceless master so that she might survey the scenery. The sky was a terrific orange and although she had never been the kind of a girl that found things like that beautiful, she nevertheless thought it. However an acute pang caused by one of her many wounds forced away all thoughts of anything pleasant.

Her involuntary wincing caused the Lorathi man gently shift her body so that she would be more comfortable. "Are you frightened?" he asked her in an even tone.

"Fear cuts deeper than swords," she laughed shakily, causing the cut across her stomach to feel as if it were ripping her in half.

"A faceless man must accept death, greet him as an old friend. We have served him for years and in return, he will give us the same gift." Arya would have responded with sarcasm, but her fatigue prevented her. Not only the weakness of her body, but the dismay that she felt. Her eighteenth name day had just passed only a few months ago. When she thought of all that she could not do and the people she would never see again, every muscle in her body seemed to ache. The sadness that threatened to overwhelm her was soon replaced by seething anger at her at all that she would lose.

"A girl looks as though she's ready to fight a bear," Jaqen mused, but his tone lacked its normal mirth it usually had when he teased her.

"I don't think I'm ready for anything right now," she responded with a cough that caused Jaqen's frown to become more pronounced. He sighed resignedly before brushing away strands of hair from her pale face and tried not to take note that her skin was cold as ice. His eyes roamed over her injuries once more, but of course, nothing could be done. The gashes that covered her body were too deep and she had lost too much blood. From the first moment he had seen her, he had always been confident that somehow she would always be free from serious harm. The girl before him was in no way predictable, but he had always counted on her ability to survive. Why was this time different? Why did she _always_ have to surprise him?

"How can you be so careless? To rush into battle as you did!" Jaqen snarled. His harsh words baffled Arya, he had never spoken like that before. She was stunned that he had referred to her directly; in one fail swoop, Jaqen H'ghar had cast away his 'no one' persona. His mask seemed to dissolve completely, leaving behind a mix of emotions from frustration to anguish. "What?" he barked.

"Who are you?" she wondered, eyes wide. It took the man a moment to gather his thoughts- to realize what Arya Stark had done to him. It was an epiphany of sorts, the realization of what this beautiful, exasperating, deranged, girl meant to him seemed to lift the weight of the world off of his shoulders. He smiled warmly and took her hand.

"The moment we met, I became Jaqen H'ghar," he told her sadly as he gave her palm a swift kiss. Arya's façade crumbled: her strength had never failed her, but today it did. The tears flew freely without any hope of stopping them. "Hush, silly girl. In another life, I will find you again." Her erratic breathing had slowed and she mustered all the effort she could to give one last parting smile.

"May the gods help you if you don't," she threatened in a low voice, her lids struggling to remain open- the pain of her wounds long forgotten. For a moment, Jaqen believed she would stir, she would smile or threaten him, or dust herself off and head for the temple, but she did not. She did not wake.

With an audible release of breath, Jaqen fell to his side so that his body lay parallel to the lovely girl beside him. He tentatively pressed the wound above his breast and as he thought, the blood soaked through his clothing. He was surprised to have lasted as long as he did. Without tearing his eyes away from her, he fished through his pocket for the most precious item in the world to him: the coin. The coin he had given her, the coin that brought her, the coin he searched the ocean for, the coin he carried with him for luck. It had never failed him before and he hoped it would not now. His fist tightened painfully around it as he shut his eyes.

"In another life, let me find Arya Stark."


	2. Chapter 2

China – 420 AD

The girl stirred from a fitful slumber before her eyes finally opened. For a moment, An believed she was back at her home, sleeping peacefully on her luxurious bed, but as the sun streamed in through the fabric of her tent, she quickly returned to reality. She yawned as she surveyed her living quarters in daylight for the first time. It was small and smelled of something horrible that An didn't want to spend too long thinking about.

With a groan, she proceeded to wash up in the basin by her sleeping bag. Perhaps her present situation wasn't all bad; cutting her hair short proved to be much more convenient. She should've done it years ago. She shook her head, thinking of all that time wasted on washing and arranging her long, raven hair. However, her mother insisted that she would look like a boy if she shortened it and of course, she was right. All it took to convince the Chinese military that she was male, was a few falsified papers and a haircut. Most girls her age may have been upset to realize they didn't possess any 'feminine wiles', but An wasn't bothered. She preferred trousers to dresses anyway. With a wicked chuckle, she imagined how her older sister, Sya, might her react to her new male appearance. Sya had always tried to push An to embrace her femininity; the two sisters were polar opposites. While Sya spent her time flirting with her father's guards, An spent her time sparring with them.

She pushed the memories from her mind, choosing to focus on her present anxiety instead. If her gender was found out, the consequences would be dangerous. She recalled her father telling her that the army had resorted to drafting all sorts, from murderers to rapists. Her identity had to be protected at all costs. Therefore, An dressed carefully, making sure to fasten every button of her uniform. She silently prayed that her first day of training would be completed without complications. She wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead, took one last deep breath, and emerged from the tent.

Her comrades all seemed to be rising as well, the heat of the morning didn't seem to allow for sleeping in. She analyzed those around her carefully, noting that most of them appeared to be around her age. If she had to guess, she supposed that there were around a hundred men at the camp. She followed in the direction that the men appeared to be heading in, past the tents to a large field where they all collected into a large crowd, awaiting further instruction.

Finally, an older, heavier man with an unpleasant scowl on his face addressed them. "Form a line." Without hesitation, everyone did as they were told. "I am Commander Wu, I am in charge of overseeing this camp. Captain Jun," he waved to the man beside him. "will be in charge of your trainging." An stood on the tips of her toes so that she might catch a glance of the captain. Jun was the opposite of Wu- he was young and lean and looked at them all with an expectant expression. An blinked in surprise, she didn't know what she expected him to look, but she certainly didn't think he would be so… handsome.

As if he had been reading her mind, Jun's inquisitive gaze flicked to An, causing her to quickly fall back on her heels. While her cheeks burned, she cursed herself for being so childish. It's not as if he knew she was appraising him, she shouldn't have reacted like a nervous, little girl. She inhaled deeply and gripped the sword at her hip for comfort. It belonged to Jia, her older brother from her father's first marriage. Before he had left to join the army five years ago, he gave it to her and told her to hide it, so it wouldn't be confiscated. Jia was the only one who seemed to understand An and embraced her for who she was and even taught her to fight. After he had passed away, the sword had served as a reminder that even if she didn't belong anywhere, she was never alone. Again it worked, Jia's sword filled her with confidence and strength, just like he used to.

"Hello," Jun greeted the group, pulling An out of her thoughts. There was something about his voice that was soothing and it reminded her of honey. "It is important for all of you to know that every man must serve." Jun strode over to the line, giving each individual a sweeping look as he passed them. "Each of you will be trained with the best standards of the Chinese army." When he arrived at An, he bowed his head as he spoke and then slowly, deliberately, lifted his gaze to meet hers.

The look in his eyes rendered An frozen. She was stunned by the intensity in them; there was something knowing in the way he regarded her, but also curious and searching at the same time. Her mind seemed to blank as she stared at him, making her feel ridiculous, but she couldn't help herself. She just simply kept staring at him in open-mouthed wonder.

The transfixing curse was finally broken when he spoke to the troops in a low voice, announcing, "Training begins now, split into pairs." Finally, he tore his fixed stare away from her and glided gracefully past her with a slight smirk on his face. After he passed her, she released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding as she tried to compose herself to focus on the task at hand.

"Listen up!" barked Wu. "We start with my favorite- sparring. Hand to hand combat, show us your strength." An noted with disdain that Wu seemed to be enjoying himself too much. There was something unnervingly cruel about his expression that made her want to never look at him again.

"Shall we?" her partner behind her inquired politely. He was quite stout and had a plump, round face- hardly very threatening. An nodded after sizing him up and they stood facing each other, waiting for their signal to begin. "My name is Huan, by the way."

"An," she offered in response, although she wasn't feeling particularly chatty. She had many reasons for joining the army under false pretenses, but she had always felt this need for battle in her blood. Her muscles seemed to sing in anticipation, as if they were in frenzy. Finally, when Wu gave the signal, she pounced.

Before Huan had a moment to prepare himself, An had grabbed his wrist with one hand and forced to him to the ground with the other against his back. She was careful not to injure him though. She smiled to herself proudly as she casually held him down.

"Good work," a voice crooned in her ear. Without shifting her position, she turned to face the speaker, but she was too late; Jun had already left, but her eyes followed him intently. There was something about him that she found even more unsettling than Wu…

"Um, excuse me? An, could you…?" the muffled voice of Huan muttered.

"Oh, sorry," she apologized as she hopped off of him and helped him to his feet.

"Don't be. You're fast," he complimented cheerfully. "If anything I'm just glad that wasn't painful." The two of them watched as the pair beside them traded heavy blows causing Huan to wince when they heard a loud crack. Meanwhile, An analyzed them strategically, noting that the two had brawn, but lacked any fighting style. "I don't think I'll ever be able to hold my own against one of them."

"There's a lot more to fighting than just pounding on each other like that," she reassured him. Before they could say anything else, a heavy hand jerked her arm.

"Time for chatting, is it?" Wu shouted into her face. "Spar with someone else." He thrust her toward a boy who looked a bit older than Huan and herself. Unfortunately for her, he had much more muscle as well. "What are you waiting for? Fight!"

The boy did as he was told, aiming a punch at her cheek that she couldn't avoid. The force of it sent her teetering back, but thankfully, she regained her balance. However, she had no time to recover, a second blow was aimed at her, but she managed to block it with her forearm. The pain of the blow awakened her ferocity; she grabbed the boy's wrist and yanked hard. With gritted teeth, she slammed her knee into his abdomen with as much effort as she could muster. He retaliated quickly, grabbing her leg and throwing her to the ground with ease. She had been bested.

The victor looked toward Wu for confirmation that he had won, but found nothing of the kind. "Do you think a battle is over when your enemy has fallen to the ground? No, it is only over when they cannot get back up," he told him menacingly. An watched as the older boy hesitated, staring at her with worry. "Go!" Wu commanded, pushing him forward roughly. Before anything could occur, Jun stepped in between them and An.

"An important lesson to learn, yes, but one that can be learned another day," Jun murmured quietly to Wu. With a curt nod, the dissatisfied man left and Jun turned to An. "You are called An," he said to her, a knowing twinkle in his eye. He reached out a hand to her, to which she accepted with a sour expression.

"Thanks," she grumbled as she brushed the dirt off her palms. Her wounded ego wouldn't allow her to act rationally, so she didn't immediately catch her rude tone until Jun narrowed his eyes at her. "Thank you, _sir,_ " she added shamefully.

"Did you wish for me to not step in?" he asked curiously.

"I can handle a beating as well as any other man here," she assured him while eyeing the cuts on her hands nonchalantly.

"That I do not doubt," he said with a smile. "But just because you _can,_ does not mean you _should._ " An resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his reprimanding; he sounded more like her mother than her trainer. Before she could reply, she noticed his eyes glance over her so quickly she couldn't be sure he had actually done it.

"What?" she inquired nervously, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

"Nothing," Jun chimed with a smirk, then immediately turned on his heel to leave. _What the hell was that?_ The girl wondered, flabbergasted. Had she done something to arouse his suspicion? Nothing about her mannerisms seemed overtly feminine, especially when she fought. She remembered something that Sya had been prattling on about to one of her friends, something about the difference between the way a man and woman stands. Perhaps her stance was too feminine? She glanced over at the other men around her, but couldn't discern any noticeable difference between her and them. Well, except for the fact that some of them looked quite threatening. Young men whose faces and bodies were etched with scars, who seemed more like criminals than soldiers.

"Not a promising group," a voice remarked. An turned to find the boy who had beaten her by her side. "My name's Guo." He offered her his hand and a wide smile.

"I'm An," she told him curtly, without accepting his handshake. She was too stubborn and proud to be friendly with someone who had beaten her.

"I'm sorry for before," he apologized awkwardly. "I just did as I told, same as you would of."

"I'm not afraid of them," she scoffed.

"Well then you're a fool," he chuckled. "Because they scare me. So do the rest of these guys. Convicts some of them, the bad sort."

"And you?" An inquired bluntly.

"An orphan, sent to fight for his country," he said mockingly. "How about you, An?"

"Same as you."

"I find that hard to believe. Orphans don't fight the way you do."

"What do you mean?" she asked with a nervous frown.

"You're too light on your feet, it's more like your dancing than sparring," he laughed teasingly.

"Sorry I don't clod around like you do. That's called technique, actually," she retorted, slightly offended.

"Well even with your fancy technique, you still lost." An glared at Guo, debating whether or not pouncing on him would attract to much attention to herself. Then again, Guo's annoying, goofy grin made her decide it might be worth it.

"Let's see about that then. Rematch?" she challenged, a malicious smirk on her face. Guo accepted her provocation with a smile and so they began to spar again. This time, their match lasted about ten minutes, causing both of them to be so thoroughly exhausted, they called a truce. "Not so tough now, are you?" An panted.

"Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure we called a truce," Guo reminded her, while massaging his bruised shoulder. "How is it that you're five feet tall, but can pack a punch like that?"

"I'm a paradox," An retorted with a smile. Despite being tired beyond belief and having bruises all over her body, she had a lot of fun sparring with Guo.

"How old are you again, twelve?" he mocked.

"Seventeen."

"Hell, that's young. Too young for a war," he cursed, shaking his head solemnly. Although she hardly knew him, she found his shift to seriousness disconcerting.

"Youth doesn't prevent death," she told him gently. "Anyway, you can't be more than two, three years older."

"Seven actually," he corrected. "Why, don't I look it?" An rolled her eyes as Guo flexed his muscles at her. She couldn't help but notice that he was very handsome, even more so with a smile on his face.

Before she could respond, something else caught her eye: she could see Jun walking around, surveying some of the other pairs. He was attractive too, but in a different way than Guo. Jun's looks were almost intoxicating, it was hard not to be enchanted by his beauty. His eyes were an uncommon shade of brown, almost bronze, and his skin shone like copper. His looks were unique, yet they seemed familiar somehow and she could've ogled him all day if it hadn't been for Guo's interruption. "An, what are you staring at?"

"Nothing," she replied hastily. "I was just thinking, Jun's a bit odd, isn't he?"

"Yeah, I suppose. I think I'll stay clear of him and you might be better off doing the same." When An looked at him confusedly, he expanded, "He spoke to you after our match, right? If I were you, I would avoid him as much as possible. There has to be a reason why even Wu is afraid of him." An nodded thoughtfully as she turned her attention back to the subject of their conversation. What Guo was saying to her did make sense; of the two, she did find Jun to be the more intimidating man, even if it was Wu who would be more likely to harm her.

She thought back to something her father had told Jia once: never trust a man who hides his intentions. She intended to follow that advice. For the rest of the afternoon, An and the other troops were made to spar against each other as their trainers watched, but she did not allow herself to look at Jun again, even for a moment. She had already attracted far too much attention to herself already.

She should have tried not to stand out by changing the way she fought- as Guo pointed out, it was definitely an uncommon style- but she couldn't help herself. Her movements were almost unconscious and she reacted to each attack with fluidity, as if combat was the most natural thing in the world for her. And in some ways, it was. She had always felt as though she were made to be a warrior, not to marry one like Sya wanted to.

Her parents discouraged her, but Jia had believed in her. He often took her into the fields behind their home late at night to teach her what he had learned from his sword master. When he passed away, she felt as though she had lost that part of herself. However, in the course of a few hours, it had been revived. Like a fire, it intensified with every passing moment.

An's only desire in the morning had been to get through the day, but now, she relished the training and even enjoyed the soreness of her muscles at the end of the day. When the sun set, the troops were given their dinner and they ate greedily, seeing as they were deprived of their breakfast and lunch. An sat beside Guo and feasted on large portions of meat, without a care as to the table manners her mother had always tried to drill into her. It felt good.

Afterward, she watched the fireflies dance through the summer night until she felt tired enough to rest. She retreated to her tent and fell to the ground, hoping to fall quickly into a dreamless sleep. Her first day had gone well, but she could not fool herself into believing that she was completely free from peril. If she wasn't discovered by her comrades, there were still many other dangers. They were to complete their training in less than two months. When they joined the war, An had to be ready to do whatever needed to be done to survive.

As her breathing began to slow, thoughts of war were soon pushed out of her head and were instead replaced by the memory of piercing bronze eyes.


End file.
